


Hospital Calls (or Lack Thereof)

by WonderfulWonderWorld



Series: The Dick Grayson Collection [3]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Bats being a real family, Bonding, Dick Grayson is Beautiful, Dick Grayson is sick, Everyone Loves Dick Grayson, Family, Family Fluff, Fluff, Gen, He's also so beautiful, His family are horrible nurses, Honestly it's a miracle he's survived this long, LETS BE HONEST DICK IS A GODDAMN DRAMA QUEEN TM, STEPH AND CASS ARE MY FAVOURITES, Sickfic, Yup u heard me right, and done with his brothers, and gentle, batfamily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2019-01-05 23:01:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12199143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WonderfulWonderWorld/pseuds/WonderfulWonderWorld
Summary: Dick is sick with the flu. His family are terrible nurses. Honestly, just call the ambulance already. Sick!Fic, including Daddy!Bats and fluffy Batfam.





	Hospital Calls (or Lack Thereof)

“I think I’m dying,” Dick whines from the couch.

Tim looks over and rolls his eyes. “Stop being dramatic, Dick, you’re sick with the flu,” he says, sounding supremely unconcerned.   
  
Dick sniffles and sneezes. “ _ Dying _ .”   
  
“Tt. You’re a disgrace to the family, Grayson,” Damian sneers from he was sketching. “It’s just a minor germ infestation. Like Drake. And you’ve dealt with the latter for years, you can surely handle a minor flu.”   
  
“Why, you little demon brat -” Tim glares at Damian and holds the TV remote threateningly at the other’s face. Damian remains unfazed as he raises an eyebrow in challenge. 

“Oh? Have something you want to say?” Damian smirks. Dick inwardly groans, anticipating the incoming fight. Sure enough, Tim’s face is growing darker and darker by the moment.

Tim snarls and leaps off his chair onto the couch. Dick opens his mouth to protest when he feels Tim’s feet stepping on his hair briefly, preparing to jump onto Damian. Damian doesn’t let him, launching himself off the chair and onto Dick’s back. 

Dick winces as Damian’s feet dig into his back and then curls up to shield his back as the two begin to fight. Tim manages to roll them both off the couch onto the floor, barely missing the priceless vase Alfred had displayed on the table.

His head hurts like a bitch, and his body is aching everywhere. He’s balled up in the blankets, freezing to death, and Tim and Damian fighting wasn’t going to help.

Eventually, Damian manages to kick Tim away from him, grinning triumphantly. He has a few seconds to enjoy his short lived triumph before Tim literally  _ tackles _ him over the couch. They hit the back of the couch as they go, which abruptly tips over.

Dick cries out as he spills onto the ground, still in his blanket burrito. He hits the ground hard enough for him to see stars, the impact softened slightly by the thick roll of blankets. Tim and Damian freeze at the noise, both turning back to look at him with vaguely guilty looks on their faces. 

Tim breaks out of his stupor first, approaching Dick sheepishly. “Sorry, Dick, are you okay?”   
  
Dick sneezes. “Just great,” he croaks.

Damian scowls and crosses his arms petulantly, but Dick knows him well enough to see the slight guilt on his face. “Get off the ground, Grayson.”

“Yeah, a little help would be nice.” His voice is hoarse and scratchy, and his nose is stuffed. He probably sounds very funny at the moment.

Tim hurriedly unwraps the blankets, letting in the cold air. Dick hisses as his skin comes in contact with the air.    
  
Bending over to offer him a hand, Tim hauls Dick onto his feet. The sudden change in position leaves him disoriented for a few minutes, and he blinks blearily. “Bring me to my room?” he requests.

Behind them, Damian snorts. “Don’t ask Drake to help you, he’s absolutely useless. I’ll bring Grayson to his room.” The youngest walks over to Dick and grabs one of his hands.

Tim narrows his eyes. “ _ I  _ was helping him,” he snaps venomously.

“Clearly, you are incompetent,” Damian growls, no less poisonous.

Dick has a migraine already, and having them fight (again) was not helping his health. “Guys, please, just stop fighting -”   
  
“You’re one to talk,  _ replacement _ ,” Tim grabs Dick’s arm and tries to tug him in one direction.

“Like you could do better than me, Drake,” Damian shoots back, his grip on Dick’s forearm tight. Dick can only groan as they fight over him, being tugged in two different directions.

It gets worse when Tim lets go of him, abruptly shoving him into the table, and Damian chooses that opportunity to attack Tim again.

Dick shuffles up the stairs, the sound of the two howling insults at each other in the background.

  
  


 

“Jason,” Dick tries.

“Hush, Goldie,” Jason responds, his attention on the screen in front of them. 

Dick’s forehead wrinkles at the half-hearted reply and he tries again. “ _ Jason _ ,” he says again, this time more insistent.

Heaving a sigh, Jason reaches out to pause the TV before turning to face Dick. “What is it?” 

Dick narrows his eyes at him. “Get this  _ off  _ of me,” he indicates the various potted plants and herbs that Jason had scattered on his torso and legs.

Jason rolls his eyes. “Quit whining like a bitch, Dickie, you’re sick, I’m trying to help you. Now shut up, I’m watching something.” He turns his attention back to the screen.

Dick feels frustration building up. He glares at Jason’s turned back and wishes that he could just strangle the stupid asshole. His body was covered in a thin layer of dirt, which he didn’t appreciate at all, and Jason had placed various seedlings and pods in the dirt. He’d heard this method from Kory, apparently, who had used it before. If it worked,  _ if  _ it worked, the plants would supposedly shrivel up and absorb his ailment.

As it was, all it did was make his headache even worse with the thick scent of the flowers. 

_ Why  _ did Alfred decide to take a break  _ just  _ as Dick fell sick? Was the universe laughing at him?   
  
Dick’s thoughts are abruptly interrupted when he feels Jason place another seed into the soil coating his body. He turns sharply and sends his best batglare at his brother. “ _ Jason!  _ Stop trying to plant me!”   
  
“Stop squirming!” Jason snaps.    


Dick groans miserably.

  
  


 

“Steph, can you let me go?” Dick squirms uncomfortably into the blonde’s hold.

Steph sighs blissfully into his ear. He tries to wriggle out of her hands, but she only tightens her grip. “Nope, I’m not passing up on this opportunity.”

Dick gives up on struggling and looks pleadingly at Cassandra. The ravenette was lying down on the carpet of Steph’s apartment, where Stephanie had dragged him into, looking slightly amused with his circumstances. A corner of Cass’ mouth quirks upward. 

Dick pouts at her sullenly. Traitor. 

He resigns himself to spending another hour in Stephanie’s lap and having all his nails painted in the same shade of blue. 

Beside him, Cass pats his shoulder consolingly.

  
  
  


Somehow, he manages to survive the day. He’s not exactly sure how, but Bruce had grabbed him from Stephanie’s apartment and dropped him off at the manor. Thank god. Bruce may have been bad with human interactions, but he knows more first aid than his other… siblings do.

Dick shudders, remembering the previous events of the day. His throat is sore from speaking too much, his nose is still stuffed, making it harder to breathe, and he’s burning up badly.

Thank god he was now resting in the manor, safe and under Bruce’s watchful eye.

Dick closes his eyes and pulls the blanket tighter around him. The door to his bedroom creaks open and soundless footsteps make their way across the room to his bed. He doesn’t open his eyes, but he knows it’s Bruce, who drops something on his bedside table.    
  


Something warm presses against his forehead, and Dick only barely manages to keep his eyes from fluttering open in surprise. Warmth runs through him and he stays as still as possible as Bruce’s lips leave his forehead. His hand brushes through Dick’s hair gently, parting his long bangs.    
  
He swears he heard Bruce murmuring, “Sleep tight, chum,” but he is gone before Dick can process the words. The door clicks shut behind him.

  
  
  


Dick sleeps soundly through the night.


End file.
